Back, with Balls

Eating and chatting are two things I do a lot of but this blog came to a halt a couple of years ago when nausea and fatigue supplanted them. When you're pregnant people regularly ask with giddy anticipation what your crazy cravings are but I'm afraid I pretty much lived on Carr's water crackers and ginger ale for the first half of bumpdom and lucky you were spared posts on those culinary firecrackers. Then before I knew it my bump was a toddler, and boy does he love to eat. I'm inspired to get back to cooking and baking, and uh even better, get OUT OF THE HOUSE to try what all the amazing talent out there is whipping up.

As my son seems insatiably hungry (wonder where he gets that from...) I'm on the look-out for quick snack recipes that are low sugar and low salt but tasty enough to inspire the yum-yum dance. I was without an oven for a couple of weeks recently as ours went kaput, but sought baked-good style snackage. A recipe for no-bake energy bites caught my eye and after trying it once we are now big on balls in this house.

They are that magical combination of easy to make, store and transport as well as wholesome, yet just sweet enough to feel like a treat. Great to grab when you don't have time for a proper breakfast, perfect to pop in your mouth with an afternoon coffee, and ideal for stashing in a packed lunch. And because these balls are bespoke, you can roll them into whatever size you like; I do about a third of the batch to suit toddler paws.

No-Bake Energy Balls 
Adapted from: Gimme Some Oven 

1 cup dry oatmeal
2/3 cup toasted coconut flakes (do toast, it's much tastier plus your house will smell like vacation)
1/2 cup ground flaxseed
1/2 cup dried fruit (I've used dried blueberries and cherries)
1/2 cup nut butter (I prefer almond butter)
1/3 cup runny honey or maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Yields: Approximately a dozen balls
 
Take your rings off. Stir all the dry ingredients together in a medium sized mixing bowl, then add the wet and sticky stuff. Get your hands in and really combine the mixture. Lick fingers. Put a plate over the bowl, place in the fridge for 30 minutes.

Now you're ready to be a baller. Put the chilled plate on the counter. Scoop up some of the mix and roll it between your hands then place on the plate. Continue creating balls of whatever size you like until finished then pop them all into an air-tight container and store in the fridge (no one wants sweaty balls). I like to put mine in the freezer for about 15 mintues to firm them up.

Try alternating what type of dried fruit and nut butter you use, maybe add a dash of chia seeds or go wild and toss in some chocolate chips. Kids love them, adults love them. Balls for all y'all.

Chocolate Custard Muffins Recipe

Sunday morning we awoke to find London covered in a thick duvet of snow. Big feathery flakes had started falling before we fell asleep — the first snow of winter illuminated the city in a pure white glow. Hello? Are you listening to me wax lyrical about the enchanting affect of frozen water? No, you're fixated on the image above, the glistening, cocoa-saturated handful you want to get your teeth into, instead of hearing about the weather. Yeah, I don't blame you, (I've been eating them and you really need to soon) let's get down to the business of chocolate custard muffins.

Violet Brown Sugar Chocolate Cake with Treacle Fudge Frosting Recipe

Our neighbours welcomed a cute new flatmate recently — a baby.  Many visitors bestow infants with onesies or hats topped with animal ears, but I like to treat the parents. Parents love cake. When their little girl's name was revealed I was instantly inspired to find some crystallised 'Violet' petals to add a personalised touch to a cake recipe I've been eager to try. Almost nine months later (new parents are quite busy!) Violet Brown Sugar Chocolate Cake was born in my kitchen. 

Sure, the kid couldn't eat any of it (she has many years ahead to juggle a conflicted love affair with desserts) but she seemed happy enough watching us scoff thick chocolaty slices as she gnawed on green beans.

Apple, Cardamom & Sour Cream Muffins

I love the Internet: a quick jaunt on the WWW and next thing you know a cancer research scientist in Boston and a Punjabi Southern belle in Houston are helping me bake muffins.

Last week I bought a new muffin tin and a few days later I happened across a lovely apple tree while walking in the countryside. New tin + abundance of collected fruit. I needed a recipe! I searched my cookbooks but couldn’t find any suitable ideas. Time to call on my good friend Google. I asked him, Google, where can I find a nice apple muffin recipe, preferably with sour cream (key defender of dry bakes) and cardamom (a spice used in Nordic baking, which is quite fashionable at the moment. Obviously I only want muffins that are on-trend).

Little Squares of Bitter Sunshine

Is there a foodstuff that you love everything about... apart from the taste? You want to like it, you've given it a go several times, but so far your taste buds remain stubbornly unconvinced. This is how I feel about marmalade.

Just the word alone — marmalade — it's lovely to look at, lovely to say. A jar of marmalade sat in the sun is a joy to behold, the light creating a bright orange glow, illuminating flecks of peel like rigor mortis specimens suspended in a laboratory jar.

Frying Pan Cake

Say "upside-down cake" to someone and just watch their face. Their eyebrows may elevate in delight. A smile will start to spread and an "oooh" may form on their lips. In the lexicon of recipe titles, this one is near the top of the fun list. Its topsy-turvy name and nostalgic appeal is so stellar even Diana Ross sang this baked treat a groovy tribute.

While upside-down cake shouts good times, it also invites thoughts of panic about 'the moment' of turning said cake on its head, and brings to mind the need for specialty baking pans, which you probably don't own and would have to run out and buy in order to make it.

Stop. Stay where you are. All you need to bake this cake is… a frying pan. That’s right, gyrate on into the kitchen and whip out your skillet. It’s baking time.

The Great British Scone

Since Wills and Kate set the date, a convivial phrase has become part of the daily lexicon: The Great British Street Party. Although I've lived in the UK for six years, until recently I'd been ignorant of this phenomenon. This may be because commoners only seem keen to gather outside their dwellings in such organised bunting-clad celebration when a Very Important Royal Event is held.

 Street party celebrating 1937 coronation of George 'King's Speech' VI
(courtesy of Royal Borough of Kensington & Chelsea)

This tradition finds neighbours bonding together to enjoy a day of festivities and heaps of food in their street. It sounds like something people did in the much ballyhooed 'good ol'days' (back when a man knew his neighbours and children could play outside!) but in the year 2011 would only be written about by lifestyle journalists desperate for royal wedding fodder. Yet according to Streets Alive, an organisation that encourages al fresco fetes, and several people I actually know, there will indeed be roadblocks and merriment.

Whether you'll be hanging bunting and hoisting furniture into the road; sitting round the kitchen table gossiping about The Dress and The Kiss; or (let's be honest here) sprawled on the sofa, basking in the glow of Kate's shiny hair, while your own remains unbrushed — there will be food involved.

It all started with chocolate

My first memory of being excited by food was triggered, unbeknownst to me at the time, by deceit. It was maternal deception, ripe for Greek tragedy. You’ll understand I’m not being dramatic when you hear I was brainwashed to believe I didn’t… like… chocolate.

For the first three years of my life my mother told me this, and naturally, I believed her. Instead, as a 'treat' I was offered carob. If you just involuntarily gagged reading that you'll appreciate the situation. This bitter, chalky, so-called chocolate substitute must've been thrust upon thousands of us born to hippie parents hellbent on healthy upbringings; marring what should've been happy chocolaty moments.
Exhibit A:

My mom laughs recounting the inevitable day I came running into the house shouting “Mommy, mommy, I DO like chocolate! I do!” I was breathless with discovery and giddy from my first kiss; a Hershey’s Kiss. No one remembers who gave it to me now, but I salute you, cocoa hero. My mom says her reaction to my epiphany was, “This kid is smarter than we thought,” (uh, thanks) and she knew the times, oh they were a changing. From then on, the healthy upbringing continued, but chocolate was allowed for special occasions. Victory!